Month: April 2013

Hardcore Host Mother

April R The Trainee Diaries , ,

LGSDRK94400_D00112_HRE_1A few nights ago, I walked into the kitchen and turned on the light. In the middle of the floor sat two giant cockroaches, their antennas twitching. I am no stranger to these bugs; in fact, I know them well enough to have valid reason to fear them. Terrified, would be a more appropriate term.

Despite my phobia, a small meep escapes my lips as I ease out of the kitchen and hurry to rap on my host mother’s bedroom door. “There are two giant cockroaches in the kitchen!” I blurt out as soon as she opens it. “Where?” she asks me, reaching for her slippers. “The kitchen!”

My host mother, a short, stout woman, wearing a thin cotton nightgown, shuffles across the living room and into the bright yellow light. “Mi outta di spray,” I hear her mutter to herself. Frightened beyond words, I linger around the corner and poke my head into the kitchen. How, I wonder, does a Jamaican woman deal with a cockroach without Raid?

I soon had my answer.

The roaches had since scattered, and they were now on opposites side of the room. My host mother shuffles over to one and carefully balances herself just long enough to remove her slipper. Wielding it in her hands, she slams it down repeatedly on top of the oversized insect. Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! She stands back to admire her work. “Dat one dead!” Then she moves to the other roach, slamming her slipper down once more. Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Then she drops her footwear on the floor and slides it back on with a shrug.

I have a newfound respect for this woman.

Cockroaches aside, I am once again in Countdown Mode. Only this time, I am not counting toward a departure, but to a permanent residence. Swearing-In is in twenty-one days!

On a whole, I’m doing much better now than I was the last time I posted. There are no excuses for how I felt, and truth be told, I still feel much of the same, but I’ve been able to put those feelings aside and recognize that they will fade with time. Or they might not, which is okay too.

I can say that I was thrown off by my level of homesickness. I’ve spent countless summers at sleep-away camp and went to an out of state school, yet I never missed home the way I do now. I suppose it’s the cultural adjustment. I also may have scared myself by reading some material PC provides for our families. In it, it discusses how many Returned Volunteers have a harder time adjusting to life at home after service, than they did adjusting to their host country. That was a mistake on my part; there is a reason this material is given to the families and not the volunteers. I worried that I’d committed a grave error by leaving my home, after finally finding happiness, only to return after two years and have to find it all over again. The only consolation is that I am an adventurous soul, and I would not have been satisfied for very long. Perhaps this is for the best.

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Last Saturday, the education sector pooled our money together and rented a bus to take us up to Ocho Rios (referred to from now own as Ochi) to go to Dunn’s River Falls. It’s a private beach, complete with a food stands, local craft tents, a beach, and a waterfall that you can climb up with natural pools at each level to hang out in. I especially enjoyed paying the Jamaican rate to get in. We had to present our Peace Corps IDs, that has the PCHQ address listed, to prove that we are residents of the island. It would have cost us three times as much, otherwise!

(more pictures from DRF to come)

It was a great day, and well worth the money (DRF admission and bus fare). The sun was hot and the water was cool. We stopped in town on the way out to pick up some ice-cream, or pay a visit to Burger King or KFC. But my stop in town was much, more successful, and as far as I’m concerned, much more exciting than any ice-cream, Burger King or KFC. At the supermarket in Ochi, I found Smartfood White Cheddar Cheese Popcorn.

MADE MY WEEK!

On a final note, I’d like to thank my friends who reached out to me during my time of need. I enjoyed hearing from you, and appreciate the lengths you went to ensure I felt loved. It was exactly what I needed to pull me through a difficult week. I’d like to remind everyone that I encourage emails, and even the silliest of sorts is welcomed.

Speaking Honestly

April R The Trainee Diaries , ,

I’m frustrated.

And that’s putting it simply.

I’m frustrated with mosquitoes, with walking long distances in sweltering heat, sweating out my good clothes, and of always feeling dirty and grimy. I haven’t washed my hair in days…

But frustration is a big part of what it’s like to be a volunteer. We’re in a new place, dealing with new situations, and presently, being lectured day in and day out while living out of a suitcase. After being sworn-in, I’ll have a whole new set of frustrations to deal with.

We are reminded repeatedly that Peace Corps service is as much of a challenge as it is a reward. This post isn’t all rainbows and butterflies, and you should be aware that there will probably be more like it in the future. This blog is my outlet; a place for my voice to be heard, and I intend to use it as such. I’m speaking freely here. It is my platform, after all.

My first grievance is with training. They weren’t kidding when they said it will drain you. We spend seven hours a day sitting in our professional clothing (after first walking and sweating in them), listening to lectures, and trying to get a grasp on what it is we’re going to be doing. We receive a broad view, yet every assignment varies in degree. We still have not been placed, and I for one am getting antsy.

DSCN0864Training isn’t terrible – don’t misunderstand – but the days seem to be dragging on. I have questions that still haven’t been answered and I am forced to find within myself another daily dose of patience.

I just want to be placed already! I am tired of living out of a suitcase, having no idea what my next living and working situation will be like. I want control of my diet (my host mom prepares most of my meals), and I want to dictate my own schedule. Right now, we go and do what Peace Corps tells us to. I’m ready for the next stage, and we still have four more weeks to go.

The problem with me is that I have a pessimistic side. I try to keep it at bay, but through my frustration, it’s coming out faster than I can stop it. What if this, and what if that? This past week, I’m afraid I lost sight of what I wanted. Homesickness is setting in, and the temptation to give in became overpowering. With the help of friends and family, I managed to steer myself back on course long enough to commit myself to the end of training. At the moment, it’s hard to see much further than that.

I suppose I miss the conveniences I’m accustomed to. I had internet at my fingertips and a set of car keys in my hands. I exercised regularly, and ate my favorite foods with my favorite people, while watching my favorite TV shows. Do we see a pattern here? I’m still adjusting to this new life. I walk into a supermarket and scan the shelves for something familiar. I long to see a car where the steering wheel is on the left side. I keep two quarters in my wallet, because they’ve become memorabilia.

And I miss my Emma. Oh, how I miss my girl…
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On a more positive note, I had a unique shadowing experience. I travelled out to St. Thomas last week (by myself, via public transit) to shadow a PCV from Group 83 who is like me in many ways. We bonded instantly, sharing a love for arts & crafts (primarily of the string kind), kids, teaching, and The Big Bang Theory. We are the same age and share many other similar interests. Visiting her shed some real light on what the next two years might be like for me. It answered some questions, and raised a few others. More importantly, it gave me a chance to really consider what I am doing here in Jamaica and if it is something I could be happy with. I’m still not a hundred percent sure of the answer, but I suppose that is okay for now.

In the meantime, it would help to hear from my friends back home. I have limited internet, and I find I miss the camaraderie Facebook usually has to offer. Instant messaging and texting have become a thing of the past. I would hate for sparse communication to cause a divide between my closest comrades and me. Always remember that I have email, and still do my best to check it daily. I’d really love to hear from you.

For now, the most logical course of action is to keep my chin up and hope for the best. Four more weeks of training; here we go.

Rural Enough For Me

April R The Trainee Diaries ,

Sometime back in September, when I was still waiting to hear from Peace Corps, I did a Google search for active PCV blogs, and came across one belonging to a girl scheduled to depart for Sub-Saharan Africa in October. “That b****!” I thought, “She took my spot!” I decided to follow her blog anyway.

During the months that passed, I read about lightning storms, electrical shortages, and water outages. Disheartened (and already aware that I was going to Jamaica), I told my mother that I didn’t think this was going to be experience I wanted it to be. I was adamant that it wouldn’t be enough of a culture shock, and that with electricity, indoor plumbing, and internet, I wasn’t going to challenged. “April,” she told me, “you wouldn’t last a day in Sub-Saharan Africa. Trust me.”

I can see it now – the self-satisfied grin on my mother’s face as I hang my head in defeat and admit that she was right.

DSCN0852I have been in Ewarton, St. Catherine for less than a week, and I’ve already had to wash my face in a basin of water, and perform what is known as “the bucket flush.” My first “bucket shower” wasn’t so bad either. This is area is prone for water lock-offs, and within three days, I was used to it. There are goats that live just outside my window and a rooster that crows off in the distance each morning. To get to training, I walk ten to fifteen minutes downhill.

Ewarton (pronounced you-er-tin), is up in the mountains and about half an hour away from Ocho Rios. The weather here is vastly different from that of Hellshire. It’s significantly cooler, and the hour-long storm that passed through on my first day left a chill in the air that lasted throughout the night. According to the locals, the weather in Jamaica varies depending on where you are on the island. Hellshire is considered one of the hottest parts; the mountains some of the coldest. It’s been reported the volunteers placed in the mountains have had to ask their parents to send them warmer clothes!

I’ll be here for five weeks, completing my HUB-Based Training (HBT). More specifically, I’ll be doing work directly related to my project: Education. During CBT, we learned about the history, culture and language of Jamaica, while merely touching on our sectors. Here, we’ll continue to build on our CBT, but we’ll spend more time discussing the challenges the Jamaican school system faces, and how we as volunteers can do our part. We’ll take field trips to local schools, have some real hands-on learning, and get some Q&A time with other education volunteers already in service. And next week, we’ll each be assigned our own volunteer to shadow! I am so excited to finally get to see how a real volunteer lives and works.

*Note: in case you’ve forgotten from my last post, Education and Environment sectors have split up. Environment is in a different part of the island, doing their own version of HBT.

Now that I am in a new place, I also have a new host family. Except that my situation is a little less of a “family” and a little more of  “a mother.” I live with a sweet woman in her sixties who is very eager to feed me and teach me about Jamaican foods. We have plans to clean the house and cook this Sunday. My room is slighter larger than my last one, and I have own private entrance, with an adjoining door to the rest of the house. I do not have internet at my home.

Which reminds me – INTERNET. Over the last five days, it’s been noted that I am internet junkie. My fellow trainees have spared no expense when teasing me about my love of connectivity. Here is a sample of a conversation I had recently:

“But what if you’re placed in an area where you have to take two taxis just to get to an internet café?”
“Oh my god, I would die.”
“And you thought you wanted Africa?”

I think it may be time to put my foot in my mouth.

Rest assured, dear readers, I will have my internet one way or another. Currently, I have access to internet at my training site, and I plan to bring my laptop daily so I can get my fix. Luckily for me, my house might not have internet installed, but it is available in the area. I can purchase a WiFi card that provides me with twenty-four hours of WiFi at a time. I will save that for the weekends, I think.

In the meantime, here are some other aspects of rural life I am adjusting to:

  • I wear one pair of shoes to walk down to training, and then change into my heels to keep my professional dress code in check.
  • Having limited water allows for creativity when keeping clean. Did you know that using cornstarch in your hair keeps it from looking greasy?
  • Doing laundry by hand is an all-day chore. Fabric softener works wonders for clothes drying on the line.
  • Don’t be alarmed if you meet an animal on Monday, and it’s on your plate by Friday.

And finally, I am improving dramatically on my Patois (sometimes, Patwa). At first, I was challenged because the language is so close to English, that as a grammar nazi, I have a hard time speaking improperly. Saying “mi” instead of “I” is not something I wanted to do. I also struggled because many of the words are so close to English, that my first reaction is just to speak it. For example, ansa. Can you guess what that word is? It’s answer. However, as we continue with our language lessons, I am developing a keen ear for it, and it’s becoming much easier to pick up on. The inclination to speak Patois is much stronger now. I keep thinking to myself, wow, imagine if I had to learn an entirely new alphabet. Better yet, what if I was placed in an area where English wasn’t even an option? Like Africa.DSCN0853

All in all, I’ve come to realize that I have plenty to adjust to already. I still disagree with my mother – I think I would have done just fine in Africa. There would have been a different set of norms to adjust to, but I am flexible, and still convinced I would have managed and found happiness just the same. However, Mom also claimed that Jamaica would be enough of a culture shock, and enough of an experience that it would be what I wanted. Four weeks into training and I am beginning to agree. Jamaica is full of diversity, cultural differences, and still a dramatic shift from my lifestyle back in America. Where I complained that the weather was the same as in Miami, Mom argued that I would not be accustomed to life without air conditioning.

“But Mom, I am still in the same time zone!”
“And you’re still going to feel as though you’re a world away.”

She was right on all accounts. The girl in Africa can keep her electrical shortages and water wells; it turns out Jamaica is rural enough for me.